The Secret Diaries Of Miss Anne Lister

by Helena Whitbread

  Tuesday 13 August [Halifax]

  Went to the Saltmarshes’. Sat with them 1½ hour. Mr Christopher Rawson came in soon after me & staid the whole while. Unsatisfactory sort of visit. All very civil, but Mr C.R. is flattering, vulgar & therefore a bore & I felt unsatisfied altogether as I generally do in our Halifax society.

  Thursday 15 August [Halifax]

  Before breakfast, from 7 till 8½, planning a dressing box, getting out all the things required, trying what space they would take… In passing thro’ the town, called at Furniss’s about a leather cover for my writing desk… Great deal of talk with Major P— about horses… He strongly advised getting Hotspur broken at the Dragoon Barracks at York, which might be done thro’ the favour of the commanding officer, & paying the government allowance for the horse’s keep. I am very strongly inclined to do my utmost to try this plan. The dragoons never whip the horses in breaking now. They are several of them turned loose in the manger. Those that have done well are patted & have a little corn, & those that are sulky & ill tempered are taken no notice of.

  Friday 16 August [Halifax]

  Letter from Isabella (Buxton), acknowledging the receipt of the gooseberries… ‘She (M—) brought Mr Lawton [C—] with her the other day, & he is certainly better looking than I expected, & is certainly very gentlemanly in his manners, but his figure is dreadful. He pressed us very much to go to Lawton but I fear we shall not be able to accomplish it. Just before he took his leave, he said that he never saw anything so extraordinary as my likeness to you; upon which M— exclaimed with a very silly face, that it was paying me a very great compliment; on any other occasion I should have said the same thing, but I was so astonished at hearing him mention your name, that I was (as we say in Yorkshire) perfectly dumbfounded.’

  Monday 19 August [Halifax]

  Off at 6 in the gig… to call at Crownest & Cliff-hill… Met Mrs Walker at Cliff-hill. Only the 2 young ladies at home at Crownest & deadly stupid this evening. Of course, I talked for them all, but such almost threw me into the vapours. Foolishly took a glass of ginger wine at Cliff-hill which has rather disagreed with me.

  Saturday 24 August [Halifax]

  2½ hours copying out from 13 July up to today of the index to this volume… The looking over & filling up my journal to my mind always gives me pleasure. I seem to live my life over again. If I have been unhappy, it rejoices me to have escaped it; if happy, it does me good to remember it.

  Sunday 25 August [Halifax]

  All went to church. Mr Franks junior preached 42 minutes from Psalm cxxii.6 and following vv. Good language & a good sermon but as much to put us in love with our political as religious constitution &, perhaps, more apt against radicalism than for the society for the promotion of Xtian knowledge, in behalf of which there was a collection after the service. He seemed as if he scarcely knew how or when to conclude. To me his voice is so feminine as to be distressing – the more striking because his appearance is not [at] all so; bald & a very sufficient black beard. But he is clever & his style & manner gentlemanly in the pulpit… My father & Marian went to bed at 11, my aunt at 11¼ & my uncle & I stood talking by the fire half hour in the kitchen about my father’s affairs. His being without a home; going to France, etc. Also of Marian’s character. How much she is like my mother & my uncle would not trust her further than he could [throw?] her. I said she could never throw away the estate for I should only leave it her for life, that whether she married or not, Listers in Wales would get it. My uncle made no remark on this but it seemed to satisfy him & he said soon afterwards, ‘Your uncle Joseph used to say he could not depend upon any of them & you know, there are too many women that one really cannot depend [on],’ to which I exprest, [sic] & felt, consent.

  Monday 26 August [Halifax]

  Letter from Mrs Davies, ‘Llangollen. August 24 1822.’ It gave me heartfelt pleasure & really exhilarated me to find Lady Eleanor Butler ‘quite recovered & her eyes are improving daily; she is able to distinguish almost anything without the use of her glass; which she has not been able to do for many years before. I would have written sooner only I was prevented by her Ladyship, to wait till she was sufficiently strong to take a promenade as usual thro’ her delightful shrubbery which she fancied confirmed her recovery.’ The following thanks very properly exprest for my promise to recommend their hotel. Altogether a very proper letter. The sentence about ‘prevented by her Ladyship’ must surely mean that her ladyship knew of Mrs Davis’s writing &, consequently that Mrs Davis must have told them I had asked her to write to me. I thought she would mention this tho’ at the time I particularly begged her not. I do indeed feel anxious & interested that these ladies should live at least a few years longer. I should like to see them both together & should like M— to be with me. Will this ever be or not?… Sewing a little… Above half-hour putting cotton wool into stays & sewing in the steel… Making a bag for my syringe & another for buttons. Siding my work-box. Putting all my bits & scraps into the gig imperial, all which jobs took me all the day & all the evening.

  On Friday 30 August, Anne left Shibden to go to France with her father and her sister, Marian, in an attempt to sort out her father’s tangled financial affairs. He was constantly in debt due to his bad management. Anne was extremely irritated by the fact that she was expected, or dutifully took it upon herself, to sort out his affairs. She certainly did not want him living either with her or near her, as she saw him as a social embarrassment. To this end, she conceived a plan whereby his estate in Market Weighton was to be sold, his debts paid, and he and Marian were to find a residence abroad where they could live cheaply off the remaining capital.

  Before Anne left Shibden Hall, she made out her will in M—’s favour.

  Thursday 29 August [Halifax]

  Went downstairs & staid with my uncle & aunt till near 9. They both witnessed my will in favour of M—. My aunt very low. My uncle carried it off better than I expected but I fear they will be dull & somewhat desolate at first. I made the best of it but the thought of my father’s affairs & one thing or other made me sick enough at heart… Got off from Shibden at 9.20. The moon obscured. Too dark for me to see & George drove me here (Northgate House) in the gig… ’Tis now 11 at Shibden, 10.50 here. I feel as if it was all more like a dream than reality. Here I am in the dining-room to the front at Northgate… writing on the eve of going to France for I know not how long, to be with my father & Marian. How strange! My thoughts are unsettled. I shall go upstairs & lie down & try to sleep a couple of hours. Good-night, Mary. You are in my heart & mind… Writing my journal always does me good. I feel better now. I shall strap up my writing desk & be in bed, or on it, in 10 minutes.

  The next day the party set off for France, travelling by road to Selby, then by steam packet from Selby to London, and then to Dover to embark for Calais. Anne was grimly determined to make the best she could of the whole unwelcome episode. As usual, her journal is her greatest source of comfort to her.

  Friday 30 August [Hull]

  Had a couple of cups of coffee & a glass of cold water & cold bread & butter & made a tolerable breakfast… The mail unusually late… It was very hot inside… I had my eyes shut but did not sleep – musing on one thing or other. The pewter bottle I had cast for my writing-desk I was obliged to leave. Just in time (at 9 last night), discovered the ink oozing out of a small flaw in the casting. I am determined to make neither difficulties nor disappointments. I shall put ink in one of the glass bottles in my dressing box. Musing of home & M—… Stopt at the Petre Arms, Selby at 9. On board the steam-packet, Favourite, at 9.25 & weighed at 9.40. Ordered breakfast & 9 of us sat down to it at 10. Bad butter. Bread & muffins tolerable. No coffee on board. It might have been got for me, if I had spoken before we sailed. 1/3 each, the charge… The cabin is very comfortable & I am writing pretty much at ease… Eleven of the passengers have just dined close to my elbow & are paying 1/9 each for dinner & 9d. per bottle of porter and 1d. per biscuit. They are giving the woman waiter 2d.
each… 2 hot roast-fowls, done by steam of course, at top, 2 ducks done at the bottom, a large cold ham & piece of cold roast beef at the bottom, potatoes & some sort of vegetable. Strong smell of onions… How nicely I have got on with my journal & my letters… Landed at 7. Immediately came here [Shakespeare Tavern, Humber St. Hull], took our rooms… a very secondary sort of house.

  Saturday 31 August [London]

  Landed at Tower Stairs at 6 & got to Webb’s Hotel7 (220, the number has been altered, instead of 234) at about 7. Sat down to dinner a little before 8. Giblet soup, cold roast beef for my father, & ½ a calf’s face, boiled. Bottle of Vidonia. Very fair wine. Got my journal book out about 9, but too sleepy to write & determined to go to bed… Between Woolwich & Greenwich, close to the river on our left, opposite to Blackwall, 3 gibbets standing at a little distance from each other, the 1st shewing remains of one man – the others the remains of 2 men each. They were Malays (sailors) executed perhaps 8 or 10 years ago for murdering their captain.

  Monday 2 September [London]

  Nearly worried last night with bugs. All my throat, my right eye almost swelled up & my left hand bit & my arms a little, but Mrs Webb so sorry & civil about it, I don’t mind the thing. I believe they take all possible precautions but, if there be a bug in the house, it is sure to find me. Neither my father nor Marian bit at all… Ordered dinner at 5½… A minute or two before 5, we all set off to the horse guards, thence into the Birdcage Walk… did [not] get back to sit down to dinner till 5.50. Gravy soup. Cold roast beef for my father. Large piece of excellent hot boiled beef & a good boiled bread pudding. At 7, all set off again. Walked along what they call the new buildings to the end of Portland Place, now terminated by what they call Park Crescent opening upon the Regent’s Park. All this done since June 1819. I was perfectly astonished. Surely there is not so fine a street in Europe – so long, so spacious, so consisting entirely of beautiful buildings. Houses like palaces, noble shops. How poor Paris will appear! The Haymarket is so improved I should not have known it again. We were out an hour & got back at 8… All this put me in better heart. I was low before. My father is so desperately vulgar. He speaks loud of what he used to see & do long since. Points at everything & spits every now & then. Surely this is the last journey I shall ever take with my father & Marian both together. But seeing this fine street made me think, Well, perhaps I am repaid, for nobody knows me… I think the watchman is just crying half-past-eleven. I began writing about 9… Extracting some memoranda from a little red morocco pocket case with asses’ skin leaves that was Eliza Raine’s8, previous to rubbing out all the writing & using the case in common for memoranda & notes made on the spot for my journal. This plan will save me much trouble & I shall always be sure, as I travel along, that my observations when made at the instant, are correct, at least as far as they can be so. Did not shut up my writing box & go to my room till 11.

  Tuesday 3 September [London]

  Set out at 10.40. The middle of the street of the upper part of the Haymarket full of waggons laden with hay. Literally a hay-market… Walked over Waterloo Bridge & back again, for which we paid 1d. each [to] the man at the turnpike… Took a coach & set us down in Pall Mall for 1/6 & a penny [for] the man who opened the door. Got out at Carlton Palace. My father a little impatient about what sort of money he was to get from Hammersley’s,9 but I always say to myself, temper, temper, temper, i.e. keep your temper & I think I managed pretty well. Hammersley asked if we had succeeded in getting our passport. I was merely giving an answer in the affirmative, when my father began explaining all about it… I saw Hammersley or rather the gentleman we saw 1st yesterday look, & my heart died within me, as well it might all things considered. Heaven grant this to be my last journey with my father. I am shocked to death at his vulgarity of speech & manner… I am perpetually in dread of meeting anyone I know. I am wretchedly ashamed &, for a moment now & then, till I rouse myself, feel low & mortified & unhappy, wishing myself out of the scrape, but all things have but a time & I will profit what I can. Catch me who can another time. From Hammersley’s strolled along to Westminster Abbey… & got back to dinner precisely at the hour fixed, 5½… I think we must have walked altogether 12 or 13 miles today… Marian does not complain much of being tired, nor my father, nor am I tired at all. But I was worried with bugs last night as well as the night before. My other, that is, my left eye, was made up this morning. I was not fit to go out, but what could I do. My father has no idea of these things. I have about thirty bites on my left hand & arm, several on my right & on my face & arms & body, & my throat is covered.

  Wednesday 4 September [Dover]

  Did not sleep comfortably last night for pain of the bites & the great itching & heat, & fancying the dirty animals perpetually at me… At 7.10, off for Dover… and at 6½ were set down at the London Hotel close upon the harbour & custom-house. Ordered our rooms & dinner in private. A little to my silent amusement, a gentleman who had come on the outside of our coach & breakfasted with us at Dartford… came into our room as tho’ he had a right. ’Twas evident, however, it was merely on account of not knowing better &, being a civil, respectable sort of man, booked like ourselves for Paris, we let him join us. Sat down to dinner at 7½. Gravy soup, soles & beefsteaks, tart & cheese, & a bottle of sherry for my father & Marian & myself, of which, however, our friend took 2 or 3 glasses besides his brandy & water.

  Thursday 5 September [Calais]

  On board the Dasher steam-packet at 11¼. Began to move out of the harbour immediately & landed on the pier at Calais in [2 hours] 55 minutes, at 2.10. Came here, to Oakeshott’s, the White Lion (Lion d’Argent, Rue Neuve). Handsome looking hotel. We have a very good sitting room opening into two good lodgings rooms, which my father & Marian have & I have a view-room not far off… Very rough sea. Our vessel… pitched a good deal & almost every passenger on board sick. I, some 8 times. Marian tolerable. My father had not been sick. It would have been better perhaps if he had. He is very unwell now (8p.m.) with a bowel complaint… He has a great deal of pain & talks of being dead in 2 or 3 days if he isn’t better – but I do not think his spirits ever buoyant when he is at all ill. However, all this makes one uneasy. I have no hope of his being able to go forwards tomorrow morning at 9. Marian & I… dined at the table d’hote. 14 of us sat down exclusive of Mr Oakshot [sic]. An L table. On our part, 3 roast fowls at the top before Mr Oakshot, which had succeeded gravy soup & a handsome head & piece of salmon from London. Soles at the bottom next to the fowls (all down the middle). Very large cauliflower fricassee. Sweetbreads done white. Both these very good. Stewed pigeons. Boiled potatoes. Boiled leg of veal, or rather, a large knuckle &, afterwards, snipes, tart, sweet omlet [sic] etc. Then cheese, Gruyère (Swiss, white, & something like Cheshire). Then a dessert of green grapes from Fontainebleau, most excellent pears, beautiful looking apples, walnuts, nuts, etc. Altogether an excellent dinner. We 3 had 2 bottles of vin du pays amongst us. Came upstairs again as soon as we had done dessert… My father’s being unwell is a sad business but I hope he will be better soon & that we all get on well.

  Friday 6 September [Calais]

  My father better this morning but not well enough to go forwards… Only 7 of us, including Mr Oakeshott sat down to dinner today… Vermicelli soup, saltish cod & soles, leg of roast merino mutton at the top, looked small & excellent. Fricasseed fowl. 3 or 4 other substantial dishes. Partridges, 2nd course. Excellent sweet omlet [sic]. Grapes, pears, etc. Very good dinner. Everything well cooked.

  Monday 9 September [Calais]

  My father a great deal better today. Ate an egg at breakfast & another at tea & had cold chicken. He is a great advocate for eating as soon & as much as he can. He is sometimes very impatient. I felt quite low when sauntering about with him this morning. I feel solitary & forlorn. Marian, poor girl, is no society for me & I am thoroughly ashamed of my father’s vulgarity. I do indeed wish I was out of the scrape & at home. Yet never despair. I will make the best of it & improve myself as much
as I can. I could hardly make myself understood at the library today & felt forlorn altogether, but my wine at dinner has made me better this evening.

  Tuesday 10 September [Calais]

  Reading a few pp. of my Paris guide in French, for the sake of reading French & it being the only book I get. Breakfast at 10… At 12.40, set out walking with my father & Marian. Along the quay, on the north sands, then the pier… This is dull work. I shall walk before breakfast tomorrow & then, if I can, stay at home & read… They are good sands to walk upon but the sun is baking. Dined on gravy soup, stewed eel, a hot fricandeau de veau, & a little hashed hare, both very good. Fritters, dropt thro’ a spoon with a round hole an inch in diameter at the bottom of it, light & excellent. Swiss cheese Gruyère (3 francs a lb) & pears. A bottle of common wine of which I had only about 3 glasses… Sent a few things to be washed yesterday, which the woman brought back this evening. Her charge higher than I should have paid in York.

  Wednesday 11 September [Calais]

  Walked close to the water & on the sands an hour. Then walked on the pier to the end of it & walked back & got home at 2.20. My father had returned ½ hour before feeling tired. But he looks & is much better today, tho’ still complaining of pain on the right side of his stomach. Went out again & bought him ½ lb of raisins… I do not think he much likes France hitherto. He told me this morning he thought we should all go back together for he is sure Marian is tired already. I think my father is, whatever she may be. He is constantly saying Frenchmen are what they were 50 years ago i.e. what he knew them in Canada & he seems neither to admire them or anything about them. What his plans are in case of speedy return, Heaven knows. I can’t have an idea of them. He says he can travel about till the money is done & we shall be tired before then. What can he mean to do? He cannot be long at Shibden nor afford to live at Northgate. The prospect seems darksome but he appears to take it very quietly. He must order for himself & I shall fidget myself not more than I can help.